


Alice (In The Sky With Diamonds)

by Jenwryn



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-30
Updated: 2009-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt is doped up on painkillers. AU, though it conforms partly to canon events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alice (In The Sky With Diamonds)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: WEIRDNESS, masturbation, handjobs, swearing, (legal) drug use, etc, haha.
> 
> You should be very scared to know that I based this on the kind of thing my own brain does when I'm on painkillers. And, I mean, on really mild ones. God forbid someone ever dopes me up properly, I'll be having conversations with purple elephants in top hats. ^^
> 
> Randomly, I don't think he's at a regular hospital - he's holed-up somewhere dodgy. Which is why, you know, he's in jeans, not some silly gown. :P

Alice has her hands between her legs.

Matt likes the view, but still it's the first thing that kicks his brain hard enough to make him realise that he's probably _not quite all there. _Alice is looking at him, though, her blond hair swishing before her eyes, and her expression seductive. Matt is undecided as to whether he's supposed to be unsettled or turned-on, but mostly he's just bemused. She bats her lashes, and hikes one of her knees up, spreading her legs wide, both of her hands moving against herself with even-tempered strokes, two fingers pressed inside, the rest circling. Matt thinks he might be interested, but then again, maybe he's not.

The whole thing would probably be a shitload sexier if it weren't for the bees that have taken up residence inside his head.

Fucking buzzing.

Alice opens her mouth, and Matt stands up and walks towards her – only he's not entirely sure if he's really walking, seeing as part of his brain feels as if it's moving in the opposite direction. _All in my head_, he decides, as his vision blurs and he finds himself miraculously at the girl's side. Matt kind of wonders if she's about to say something, then makes the decision that his fantasies aren't allowed to speak; she shuts her mouth again, and pouts.

Damn, he's _good _at this shit.

He wonders vaguely if it's pills. People have slipped weird shit into his drinks in the past. Fucking mob boys.

More likely he's got a fever, though. There'd been a rough stake-out... hadn't there? He can remember a lot of cars...

Mello's face slides over Alice's, superimposing itself like bad reception on an old television, and Matt whips his head around so he can't see it; stares, instead, at a row of birds grinning down at him – they have teeth – from a nearby set of trees, which appear to have molecularised at his need for them. Mello's not allowed in Matt's fantasies. He's not. Really. It complicates things. Matt counts to ten, getting lost a few times en route, until he thinks it's safe. When he turns back, Alice still has Mello's eyes, and there's something of his smirk to her lips, but Matt decides he can ignore that, because she's got her slippery damp hands at his belt buckle, and then she's got them on him, pulling and stroking.

"_Mello_," he moans, despite himself, as her lips close around him, and it's the first word he's spoken out loud, and suddenly the world melts away, and he's on his back, and the light is duller, but the bees are still buzzing behind his ears, and he's hard against the too-tight of his jeans. "Fuck, _Mello_," he moans again, and he's too hot, too hot, and he needs to turn over, needs to rub against the bed he's on, except that somebody has their hands against his upper arms, holding him down, and there's a face leaning over him and―

"Matt," says Mello's voice, warningly, quietly, something-ly, that Matt can't quite figure out, but the fact that the blond man is speaking at all is a bit bloody disturbing, because hadn't Matt decided that nobody in this fantasy was allowed to talk?

Come to think of it, though, Mello never does what he's told.

One of the hands, which had been holding Matt still, lets go of his arm, and slaps sharply at Matt's face.

Matt blinks twice, and stares up at Mello.

"Fuck," he says again, but the tone is different, and the buzzing of the bees is temporarily drowned out by the ringing left in the wake of the blond man's hand.

Matt's finding it kind of hard to focus, but he thinks that Mello might be staring down at him with wide-eyed concern.

Clearly he's dying or something.

"You're not well," says Mello. His hand must still be hanging in the air from having slapped Matt, but it's strange to look at. It _seems _to be moving towards Matt and pressing at his face gently, but Matt knows he's obviously making that bit up. Matt's eyes keep moving from where he tells himself Mello's hand has to be, to where he can feel it on his face, and the back-and-forth is making him dizzy.

"You got yourself shot up, dickhead. Old Doc says you're like a sieve. You're doped to the eyeballs. You're not allowed to be moving. You're not allowed to be..." Mello pauses, as though he doesn't want to say, _you're not allowed to be trying to rut the bedsheets whilst moaning my name_.

Matt starts laughing at that, because a speechless Mello is freaking fantastic, even if there's a possibility that it's not real.

Laughing hurts.

"Your fault," Matt manages. "Too hot, you are, too hot, in my head, you never let me, never let me have you."

Matt figures his explanation doesn't make much sense, though, because Mello is looking at him as if he were speaking some language so obscure that it doesn't even have a dictionary, and so Matt just laughs again, and then he coughs. The buzzing in his head gets a little louder at that, and he has to concentrate to find his brain hidden away in the middle of the hive; the Queen Bee has Near's face and she looks terribly disapproving that he should have been so silly as to lose it in the first place. Matt's about to start protesting that it's partly her fault too, when Alice turns up again, puts both of her hands on Matt's face, and kisses him, so softly that he blinks and stares, and somehow Alice is Mello, and Matt's on the bed again, and the springs are squeaking because Mello has climbed up onto it with him. Mello is sort of hovering over Matt, as though he's afraid that putting his weight against the redhead might break him. Matt says, "...Mello?" in a wondering voice, because if this is a fantasy, then he's _really _improved at the whole touch-sense thing. Mello just nods at him, and fuck if it doesn't look like he's crying, and then he leans in and kisses Matt again, and Matt can't think at all now, because the buzzing is blending with the white noise, and with the sound of Mello breathing against Matt's lips.

Matt wonders absently whether his own hands work. He finds that they do, so he reaches one up and threads his fingers through Mello's hair, just because he's always wanted to do that. It's not as soft as he'd imagined, but it's warm from Mello's body heat, and it isn't being pulled out of his reach, which Matt appreciates, as he thumbs at the side of Mello's face. Mello is saying things, a lot of things, too fast, too fast and too low, and Matt can't follow a word of it, so he just smiles and says the only thing that makes sense right now.

Mello shuts up instantly, and his eyes widen a little more, as if _I love you_ weren't an entirely appropriate statement.

"I do," Matt reiterates stubbornly, as though Mello, the little bitch, is doubting Matt's veracity �' oooh, _veracity_, now there's a nice word to use on painkillers, it rolls so prettily. "Always have, really," Matt can hear his own voice saying. "Beautiful messed-up fuckwit, hair and eyes, and hips, and _Christ_."

Matt's hard again, which is amusing, really, because Alice is nowhere to be seen, and Mello is staring at him in a way that's starting to eat through even the bees' noisiest hymns, and that's a bit of a worry, seeing as Matt has begun to pick up their tunes, and he's been considering singing along with them.

"Are you even conscious?" Mello demands, and he sounds annoyed. "Because if you wake up again, like, tomorrow, and don't remember any of this, and tell me it was all just shit you said because you were high on the happy pills, I'm going to have your balls on a plate."

Matt's not really listening. He shifts his hips uncomfortably. He wants to roll over and _rub_, and the Queen Bee is staring at him as if he were a pervert, and Alice is being a contrary tart. "Oh piss it," he grumbles against the pillow. "Y'know I love y'Mel. Always've known."

Mello slaps him again, harder this time, and Matt jerks to sit up. The movement shoots a warning of potential-pain through his chest.

"WhatthefuckMel?" he demands, as the blond's head draws back into sharp focus again.

Mello has his hands on Matt, both of them. One is warm and curved at Matt's face, covering the red-raw imprint it had just left there, and the other is inexplicably at Matt's right hipbone, _really_ at Matt's right hipbone, which means it must have slid beneath his jeans, except that his jeans aren't as tight as they were a moment ago, and the air on his taut skin is deliciously cool, which means, if he can focus long enough to put two and two together and get something other than a pretty fractal as a result, that Mello must have unzipped Matt's fly and pushed Matt's pants down.

Matt's eyes widen at this concept, and a noise like a crow choking on plastic comes out of his mouth.

Mello grins, the bastard, shifts his hand, and trails a finger up the underside of Matt's dick. "This is probably going to hurt in the end," he muses, as he closes his hand into a circle. He begins to pull and stroke, and Matt begins to struggle for breath. "I figure that when the doc said no strenuous movement," continues Mello, his voice deep and sultry, "he probably would have included orgasms on the list, except that nobody knew what a horny git you were. But I'm sure you'll thank me in the end. Just look at you, all strained and hot."

Matt kind of wants to kill him, or kill himself, or maybe kill the both of them and go out in the headlines, except that murder plans require thought, and thought is the main thing Matt's losing track of, as Mello's grip tightens; as Mello slicks his hand with his own spit and the beaded pale of Matt's pre-cum; as Mello leans in, careful not to put any weight against Matt, and kisses him again, raw but gentle, hard but almost-anxious, as though he wants this as much as Matt does; as though he's wanted it for just as long. Matt wishes he were more conscious, wishes he could properly memorise every shift of Mello's fingers and Mello's mouth, and the swish of Mello's hair against his face, but the keening need is too much, and the bees are roaring out an anthem when he comes, stinging pain from his chest mixing with the pleasure,_ god_. Matt's neck hurts from having flung his head back, and from Mello having bitten down against the soft skin below Matt's ear; a fierce thrust of teeth to match Matt's thrust against Mello's hand.

"Love you too, moron," Mello's voice whispers in Matt's ear, though the sound is already growing disembodied as Matt loses himself in the flush of climax, and the cheerful glow of the bees. Still, Matt manages to find both of his hands and he clings to Mello for all he's worth, even as the rest of him retreats into the wonderland of the painkillers, because he desperately wants the blond to still be here, on the creaking bed, by his side, when he comes back down to earth again.

In the meantime, though, Alice has done a wardrobe change and, as she takes Matt's hand and leads him further down the rabbit hole, every leather-clad inch of her is nothing but _Mello._


End file.
